


A Streak of Purple

by ShorterWong



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol, Canon-Typical Violence, Condoms, Dirty Talk, F/M, Gangs, Gun Violence, Guns, Hickeys, It will eventually be explicit in the future, Marking, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partying, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShorterWong/pseuds/ShorterWong
Summary: Living on your own in New York without many people you were close to was hard, at most you had maybe a friend or two; and socializing in unfamiliar places was hard.Your friend brings you to an apartment party in Chinatown with the intent of getting you into socializing more before promptly ditching you to spend more time with others. Surrounded by strangers, you wished you had never gone. But someone comes to the rescue, and although he's nice you can't shake the feeling there's something more to him than just being a fun upbeat guy.





	1. Coffee

Reaching your fingers down, you brushed the tips against the furry cat belly exposed to you. To no surprise, it was a trap. A pair of small fuzzy paws darted to your hand and swatted at the back of your hand.

You smiled and withdrew your hand, the cat’s large eyes staring you down as its tail swung back and forth.

From the other partygoers, you’d been told that her name was Coffee, and she belonged to a neighbour from across the hall. Fortunately, Coffee chose a good time to visit this place, as if she were a godsend to save you from the awkward situation that was a party you didn’t want to be at.

A mixture of music and loud drunk voices made your head throb with a light ache, slowly you could tell you were sobering up -- unsurprising given the very few amount of drinks you’d had that night.

Although normally you might have enjoyed a good house party with friends, the only person you knew there was the one friend who brought you in the first place, only she managed to ‘forget’ that she brought you there, choosing instead to socialise with almost everyone _but_ you.

The idea of leaving struck on multiple occasions, but you weren't familiar with New York City's Chinatown and it was late enough that staying at this party leaving you less-than-enthusiastic seemed like the safer option.

Strangers came and went over the evening, occasionally greeting you with a head nod as you indulged in entertainment from your new furry friend Coffee, sipping at beer just to keep at least a bit of a buzz to help with the feeling of being _that awkward person_ at the party.

When the door opened again and someone walked in, a flash of purple caught your eye and you glanced curiously to look at the new face, realising it was his vibrant mohawk that had caught your eye. He seemed to catch that, eyebrows raising from behind his sunglasses for a brief moment before he turned to greet some of the men in the room.

At first, you passed it off as nothing, returning to your attention to the somewhat attention-needy Coffee. It wasn't until some ten minutes or so later that the man with the purple mohawk stepped over to you, standing straight above you. You realised then --looking up at him-- how _tall_  he was. Although he kept his sunglasses on, you had time to take in small details like his eyebrow piercing.

Leaning down, the stranger invaded your personal space and left you frozen with surprise at how close he was by the time you were able to piece together what he was doing.

"It's time to come home now, Coffee," he said softly, close enough to your ear that you were probably the only person who heard him speaking to the cat.

Picking your sole party company up, he looked at you and smiled.

"Were you keeping her company?" He asked, beaming rather cheerfully and he stood up straight, once again towering above you.

"I think it was more like _she_ was keeping _me_ company," you replied, realising after you spoke that what you said was more the truth than the joke you intended it to be.

The young man raised his pierced brow, visibly turning his head to glance around the apartment of people drinking and socialising. 

"The name's Shorter," he started, shifting his hold on Coffee to have her only in one arm, "If you're more interested in chilling quietly, my place is just across the hall," he gestured toward the apartment door.

"Um," about to decline the offer for being... rather abrupt from someone you just met, you looked around the room for a moment, spotting your friend chatting away with someone and seemingly getting pretty close and comfortable with them. The three options all had different pros and cons that you weighed against each other in your head. "I guess a break from this loud place couldn't hurt?"

Reacting to your answer, Shorter reached his free hand out towards you. You took it, and he pulled you to your feet, releasing your hand and leading you out to the apartment. Glancing back, you see your friend hasn't even take note of the fact that you were getting up and heading out the door.

Shrugging, you turn back to face forward and introduce yourself to Shorter.


	2. Getting to Know You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so I decided not to make this porny but to instead make it more about.... our favourite Purple Boye  
> So look for more updates in the future as i work towards a bit slower of a burn with him :3c

Shorter ushers you into his apartment somewhat unceremoniously. You walk past the door and remain in the doorway until he steps in, closes and locks the apartment door behind the both of you.

The apartment is mostly empty, the entrance is directly connected to a living room with the bare basics; a large sectional couch, coffee table, and huge tv. The blankets over the windows as opposed to curtains immediately screamed ‘a young bachelor’s apartment’, which isn’t something that particularly surprises you. At the very least, it seems to be clean. Although that could be a trick of the dim lighting.

“You can go ahead and sit down,” Shorter offers, kicking his shoes off and crouching over to place the cat in his arms onto the floor. Coffee chatters and trots away out of sight, turning down the small hallway in the apartment until she’s out of sight and only then does it feel like it’s just you and Shorter there in the apartment.

“A-Right yeah I’ll…” you pause, glancing down to where he’d taken off his shoes, “I’ll do that.”

Kicking off your shoes, you walk into the apartment, movements a little delayed because part of you wants him to lead the way but it seems he prefers to follow from behind.

By the time you make it to the couch and sit on it, you realize Shorter hadn’t followed you, but instead turned into the kitchen. Although part of his body is obscured from sight by a separating wall, you can see quick glimpses of his vibrant hoodie as he seems to rummage around.

“Do you want a drink with alcohol or without?” He asks, peeking his face out from within the kitchen, his pierced brow raised.

“Can I just have cold water or something?” You ask, turning your body to properly face him. It probably wouldn’t be the best idea to drink alone with him, you think, and it seems like a good idea to start rehydrating now to avoid any near-future headaches.

“Gotcha,” he dips back into the kitchen for a moment and comes back out with a bottle of water in one hand and a can of soda in the other.

He’s unceremonious when he falls onto the corner of the sectional, not far off from having thrown himself onto it.

“So did you come here with a friend?” He asks, handing over the cool, condensation-wet bottle of water to you.

“Yeah, I did,” you answered, murmuring a quick thanks as you took the bottle and twisted the cap open, “well… I guess they think they came alone.”

Realizing you answered in more detail than you should have, you awkwardly brought the bottle of water to your lips to take a long, generous drink for yourself. Maybe you probably shouldn’t have opened up with your clearly bitter feelings on being abandoned at a strange party; but then again it was a shitty thing to have done. Shorter laughs, opening his can with a hiss.

“I’m better company anyway,” he states confidently, taking a quick sip of his drink.

“I mean the bar’s pretty low right now.”

You can hear Shorter choke slightly on the drink he’d been swallowing when you spoke, taking a moment to down it before coughing into his arm.

“Oof,” he manages finally to say hoarsely, “I mean passing a low bar is still a compliment right?”

Your cheeks warm up, feeling embarrassed for the fact that in an attempt to sort of get out bitter feelings as your friend you almost half-insulted Shorter, even though he seems to be taking it in good spirit regardless.

Feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pull it out to take a peek and see if it’s anything important.

The message on your screen turns your improvingly less-bitter mood straight back to bitter.

_‘Be back in bit dont wait up for me’_

The text itself from your friend is hardly surprising, what really gets you is that she doesn’t even seem to notice that you aren’t even there anymore enough to mention it or suggest that you don’t wait up for her.

You’re snapped out of the anger by Shorter wriggling slightly out of the periphery of your vision, looking up to see he’d shrugged off his sweater, wearing only a black, snug wife-beater tank top beneath it. Your eyes stray as if to avoid lingering your gaze too long. For such a friendly, disarming guy he was more built than you’d expected.

“Your friend?” He asks curiously, seeming if anything somewhat concerned if not aware of your soured mood.

“Yep,” you sigh, followed by a shrug, before returning your phone to your pocket. Turning to the side, you pull your feet up onto the couch and nestle yourself comfortably until your entire body is facing Shorter, “doesn’t matter though ‘cause you’re better company, right?”

“I guess there’s a standard I gotta hold myself till now huh.”

Shorter looks down to his can and smiles as if to himself, before taking a large swig and placing the can on the coffee table. He stands up, looking around as if trying to decide what to do.  
“We can play games, watch something or-”

A loud, aggressive knock on the door interrupts him before he can finish, his gaze immediately snapping towards it. He doesn’t make a move for a moment that feels much too long until a second series of knocks happen. You open your mouth to say something but just as the first syllable passes your lips he places two fingers directly against them to silence you. He’s tense, and you suppose a knock well past midnight seemed suspicious enough, it’s as if he’s expecting trouble.

Shorter removes his fingers from your mouth and slowly makes his way towards the door, turning to look at you and gesturing with a finger in front of his lips as a reminder to stay quiet.

His reaction to the knocks makes you feel the beginnings of a nervous knot forming in your core, your throat dry. You don’t move the whole time, watching him make it to the door quietly and checking the peep-hole.

The moment he does you can immediately see the relief in the way his shoulders drop as he sighs, turning the lock on the apartment door and opening it only enough for the person on the other side to slide in. The sight at the late night visitor put you at ease, he appeared to be quite small and young. A sibling perhaps?

Shorter closes the door behind his guest, his brow knit with apparent concern. He walks back to the living room area, the guest concealed behind shorter’s much taller, more broad frame.

“This is is Sing,” he smiles, but still seems to be at the very least a little on edge, “he’s here to crash, but not very social so don’t worry about him.”

You can hear Sing groan in disapproval immediately after Shorter introduces him, but he doesn’t greet you or say anything, simply turns down the hallway and slinks out of sight. Before he does however, you can’t help but notice an out of place dark splatter on his light-colored shirt.

“He’s more like a cat than Coffee he’ll probably come socialize when he wants attention,” Shorter quipped.

“I heard that.” Sing’s voice snapped from down the hall, the sound of a door closing following immediately after.

The light-hearted nature from Shorter puts your brief concern at ease, leaving you to think that the tension was just a result of it being late, and that whatever you thought you may have seen on Sing was a trick of the dim lighting.

"So where we left off," Shorter starts, walking around the couch to make his way back to his spot, "what do you want to do? We have the whole night ahead of us."

"Why don't you pick, as host?"

Instead of going back to where he'd been sitting, Shorter stopped dead in his tracks, looking down from his full height at you with a  _boastful_ grin. You feel sheepish, if not outright like a sheep cornered by a wolf.

"There's nothing I can think of that's appropriate to do the first night I've met someone."


	3. A Selfie

_You make it home alright?_

_Yeah traffic was awful though._

_Did you hear from your friend at all?_

_yep_

_she sent me a message this morning_

_Said she had a hookup and hoped I had a good time_

_Her hookup wasn’t very hot or good though_

_Her words_

_LMAO_

_Did you tell her about your hot hookup?_

_HELLO?_

_If by ‘Hookup’ you mean ‘Got his ass kicked on Smash'_

_Then I guess?_

_You won *one* more game than I did_

_Exactly_

_Anyway my POINT is maybe you *didn’t* get laid last night_

_But_

_She doesn’t know that_

_And why not rub it in that she ditched for a bad fuck?_

_So you want me to just lie_

_And say that i went off_

_To hook up with someone?_

_Yeah_

_…_

_Just hang on a sec_

_Sure?_

 

While waiting for Shorter, you sat in bed doing your daily social media checking. Although it was early afternoon, having spent the entire night at Shorter’s until daylight left you needing sleep. At the very least, a nap was in order.

Hanging out with Shorter had been great. The two of you ended up watching shows and playing some games throughout what was left of the night. Occasionally Sing would come out of whatever room he’d holed himself up in and chat with Shorter, but otherwise wasn’t particularly social. You chalked up the fact that he wasn't socializing with to his young age, which you had been told would be fourteen in a month. Perhaps he was an awkward teen. 

Although originally taking Shorter's invitation to his apartment almost immediately after meeting him seemed like a horrible decision, one you likely wouldn't have made had you not felt frustrated and out of place. Still, now that you made it come and one piece and had time to reflect on spending the late night into early morning hours with him that it was a decision that turned out worthwhile. He was a bit of a flirt but it never seemed like he had ulterior motives to hanging out, his taste in games and media didn't align completely with yours but still the two of you had some similar tastes enough that it was enjoyable. You wouldn't say you got to know him too well, but enough that overall you were grateful for having gone out in the first place.

Your phone vibrates in your palm; bringing you back from your thoughts about the night before and you swipe open the notification from Shorter. The moment your messaging app opens, you drop the device, letting out an audible, dramatized ‘Oh my god’ as you do, bring a hand up to cover your increasingly hot cheeks.

 After the brief period of embarrassment passes, you pick the phone up again, taking more than a second to look at the shirtless picture he just sent you. His selfie game was strong, you could give him that.

From the image, Shorter’s gaze is fixed on the camera, phone held slightly above his head in a traditional selfie angle his mohawk an unstyled mess limp to the side of his head. His free hand squeezed one of his muscular pecs, fingers digging into his skin just enough for it to look… you shake your head. There was nothing wrong with admitting he looked good, right?

 In what seems like unsurprisingly ‘Shorter’ like personality, his tongue lolled playfully out of his mouth, revealing a small silver ball rested on the center of his tongue near the tip. Of course this guy would have a tongue piercing, of course he would. The fact that you //hadn’t noticed while with him surprises you.

If you could put a single word to describe the selfie, it’d be “fuckboy”.

Dots indicating that Shorter is writing to you show up beneath the picture before another message pops up.

 

_Well? This’ll definitely make it look like you had a less disappointing night than her, just send it._

 

Staring at the phone in disbelief for a moment, you start to weigh the benefits. 

Your friend //would probably find him attractive; and since she cared more about flaunting a hot hookup than you, it probably //would serve to make her a bit jealous.

And you //are still feeling a little bit petty about the situation.

Shorter sends another message while you’re mulling it over.

 

_:)_

_You know what?_

_You’re right i should_

_Thanks_

_I’m gonna take a nap now tough_

_good idea_

_Sleep tight_

 

Realizing you’ve been smiling at your phone too long for it to be acceptable, you quickly shake your head as if to clear before saving the selfie so kindly offered to you by Shorter.

 Settling into bed, you send the picture to your friend and caption it with ‘i left with this, so pretty good night. thanks for taking me out’ before locking your phone and placing it on your bedside table.

 You pull the covers up over your body and nestle comfortably, thinking that you might be too energized to be able to fall asleep, but the comfort of slumber easily takes you into its grasp within minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know my chapters so far have been super short, but i'm hoping that by doing so I can more easily come up with more stuff and prevent stress by just giving smaller chunks, so far I'm enjoying doing just a little bit at a time so for now that's how i'll be updating.


	4. A Bar and a Pool Table

What you originally intended to be a short power-nap turned into a much longer than expected sleep. As you stir awake and look out the window, you realize the sun is already setting. You can feel a twinge of hunger, but aren’t quite ready to get up yet. Closing your eyes, you remain in bed on your back weighing the pros and cons of sleeping just a _little_ bit longer, and then maybe staying up for the night. It was a Saturday, so it wouldn’t be a big deal to have a late night.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear two quick vibrations from your phone, a hand sliding out from under the covers to snatch it from the bedside table. You start by swiping the e-mail and social media notifications before committing your attention to your unread messages.

The first of which of course you open are from your friend, having left a notable quantity of successive replies to your last messages.

The most recent ones are just your name in all caps for a couple messages. You scroll up to the last message you sent her to read through properly.

 _WHAT_  
_??????????????_  
_did he show up after i left?_  
_GOD you have to tell me_  
_are you home yet?_  
_What the fuck he’s beefy_  
_please tell me you got a face full of those titties_

Eventually the text devolved into simply messages of your name although with a few other comments here and there, like asking if you were still with him, or specific questions about his tongue piercing. Most notably one of her messages saying she didn’t think that you had it in you to do something like that.

She’s right, you didn’t have it in you. All of her questions bring with them the temptation to just come clean about the lie, but decided that messing with her about it makes up for how you felt about being ditched - it’s a necessary step in maintaining your otherwise good friendship.

You quickly type of a message on your phone’s keypad, telling her you just woke up from a nap, before moving onto the rest of your notifications from other people.

It’s only then do you notice you have a couple new messages from Shorter. It somehow strikes you as surprising - of course the two of you got along and it seemed like there was plenty of possibilities for getting to know him better. You feel your cheeks tickle with excitement as you smile and read what he’d sent.

 _do you wanna come by my area again tonight?_  
_i’m going out and thought you might be down for a better party than the one you needed saving from_ _  
_

You think about it for a moment. Unsure of whether or not you should. Going out both Friday and Saturday seems like out of your comfort zone but you never know when your next chance is.

Still undecided, however, you decide to message and see if the offer is still on the table given you’d been sleeping for a few hours.

 _how do i know i won’t be left alone?_  
_only to be forced to fend for myself and repeat the cycle?_

You put your phone down and sit up completely in bed, sliding out of it, intending to get up to eat or shower, but it’s only a moment later before your phone goes off and you receive a reply from Shorter. You pick it up to read and respond.

 _if you come i won’t leave your sight_  
_you can count on someone you just met_

_What if i have to go to the bathroom?_

_I’ll go too_

_Shorter...._

_or not that’s your choice_  
_I’m just saying my dedication to my word is unbreakable_

_i guess i can but it’ll take me awhile_

_i’ll give you an address and you can meet me there whenever after like... 10_  
_If you can’t find me right away you can look for Sing, he’ll be there too_

 _Okay okay, give me the address_  
_i’m gonna have to shower and get ready_  
_I’ll message you when i’m on my way_

You almost feel bad for caving so easily, as if there was something wrong in admitting that the idea of seeing Shorter again so soon has a lot of appeal.

Again putting down your phone, you get up, stretch, and head to the shower. It takes a bit of self control not to walk with a spring in your step.

 

* * *

 

 

You look around both ways, trying to find numbers or anything to find the address you’re supposed to make it to. It’s already dark and you can’t tell if you just can’t see some of the numbers because of that, or they aren’t there.

Looking at your phone again, your map shows you that you’re almost at the address given to you; you take a second to send Shorter a text that you're almost there before you're tipped off by a notable group of people standing outside smoking and chatting. You glance down at your phone showing your destination a few meters in front of you, then look back up to the group surrounding the doorway.

Did he invite you to a bar of some sort or was it an odd location for a house? It seemed unmarked but the address looked to be right. You close the distance and make it to the doorway, hesitantly walking forward when two pairs of eyes from some of the men in the doorway zero in on you, their bodies turning as if ready to speak to you the moment you get any closer.

You can only assume it was a bar after all, but you weren't warned; would you even be able to get in?

Of the two of them, one of them stands out from the rest of everyone standing outside. You can easily see the green of his eyes in the street light, gaze piercing right through your being. He has the appearance of a general pretty boy blonde teenager - definitely young - but his presence alone makes you almost... uncomfortable. He doesn't say anything though once you're right there in front of him at the doorway, instead the other man standing by him - a taller and definitely older man - speaks to you.

"Do you have business here?" he asks, looking down at you with suspicion as if you aren't supposed to be there. Your back straightens as you try to gather your words.

"Y-yeah I'm supposed to meet someone here," the moment the words come out of your mouth you almost feel as though you'd given an incorrect answer. The man opens to say something, but he's cut off by someone speaking from behind you.

"She's here for Shorter."

You turn around to look at the person behind the voice, feeling instant relief to see Sing behind you. He looks just as reserved as last night, but despite that you feel like you can breathe again. It seems like the two men in front of the door immediately have a less oppressive energy the moment Sing offers your explanation for you.

"I'll take you inside," he offers, stuffing his hands roughly into the pockets of his blue jacket and walking past you to the door.

"Thanks Sing," you follow behind him, flashing a smile to the people standing at the door. Something catches your eye on the blonde's hip and you glance down on your way in. By the time you register that what you'd seen was a gun just _right there_ tucked into his waistband leaves cause for concern of what kind of place Shorter had invited you to, and you're a bit nervous about how the conversation with those two could have gone if Sing hadn't been there.

Sing leads you down a flight of stairs. You almost dismiss the idea that you'd been invited to a bar, especially given someone as young as Sing just sauntered on in, but by the time you reach the staircase landing, you can see through the open secondary door that it most certainly _is_ a bar. Although if first appearances were anything to go by it wasn't a perfectly legitimate establishment. It has most of the staples of a generic hole-in-the-wall bar, including multiple pool tables but the vibe it gives off is less "business" and more "hang out space made to look like a business'.

One of the first things you pick up on passing through the door is that out of the many people in the bar, most if not all of them seem to be men. It's unsurprising given the... sketchy vibe of the place that mostly men would want to be here. The fact that the only person you currently know that's within line of sight of you is a young teenager who apparently can just... waltz into a bar.

You finally spot Shorter when he stands up at his full height, his vibrant purple mohawk instantly recognizable in the crowd. 

He smiles and leaves the side of the pool table he'd been next to, cue stick in hand. He raises his hand in a quick wave.

"So you came back for more?" He teases.

You stiffen, your eyebrows raising in surprise as you try to formulate exactly how to respond. From the periphery of your vision you can see Sing has a similar reaction, although his embarrassment is much more obvious. Or so, you think at least. Shorter laughs rambunctiously, having clearly gotten a worthwhile result from his tease.

"Sing, can you snag us a couple drinks?" Shorter asks, reaching out and grabbing your wrist to pull you along towards the pool table.

You follow without resistance, looking around to take in your surroundings. Although coming into the bar from outside people seemed interested in who you were, the people inside seemed hardly concerned with you, as if being with Shorter changed that. The only assumption you can have is that Shorter is well known around here - hardly surprising given his sociable nature.

"Just in time for your turn, boss," one of the men around the pool table says, leaning back against the wall nearest to them.

Boss?

That specific term piques your interest and you look up at Shorter with curiosity, but he doesn't notice. He releases your wrist.

"I should be able to finish this in one more turn," he says confidently, picking up a cube of chalk and chalking the end of his cue.

Watching him take position, you're startled when Sing comes up from behind you with two drinks in hand. He silently offers one of them to you. It seems to be orange juice, so you theorize it's either actually what it appears to be or a screwdriver. You assume the latter. Plucking the glass from him, you bring it to your lips and take a sip.

The dull burn in your throat indicates you've been given more of a vodka with orange juice than an orange juice with vodka.

Your attention is back on Shorter when you hear the sound of pool balls striking against each other, Shorter watching with a pleased expression as two striped balls roll into the holes. He repositions himself to the other side of the table and carefully examines the layout of the balls in front of him. There aren't many left on the table, so the game seems to be just about over like he'd said. Shorter leans down to take another shot, the tip of the cue connecting and setting off another chain reaction. Although this time only one ball sinks.

You realize with no striped balls left on the table that Shorter was left only with an eight-ball shot to take. It's easy to see that he was certainly good at pool, his grin read nothing but casual confidence. 

"Beating Shorter is usually a personal achievement around here," Sing spoke up to your surprise behind you, probably the first time he'd directly spoken to you in casual conversation.

"Have you beaten him?"

"N-No!" he answered sharply, seemingly flustered by the question. He brings the other drink in his hand to his lips, taking a notable swig from it. You can't help but look at him with wide eyes, wondering to yourself who just... let this child be _like that._

You suppose it wasn't out of the norm for teens to want to drink, and the bar had already seemed to be less-than-legit. Although wasn't that drink what Shorter had asked for?

"Ash can beat him, though," Sing continued.

"Ash?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He was the white-," Sing paused, "the blonde one at the door."

"Ah, that one," the one who seemed to have a gun just... visibly there tucked into his pants. That blonde one. You take another sip of your strongly mixed drink. In the time that you and Sing spoke among each other that Shorter had sunk the eight-ball and won this match. He turns back to the both of you.

"You should play," he suggests.

"I hear you're pretty formidable," you point to the table he'd just won a game on as if to further your point.

"That's why we'll do doubles and you can be on my team," he points the direction you came from with the pool cue, and you turn to look. You stiffen at the sight of Ash walking over from the doorway. It seems a bit much to be so intimidated by someone who you were certain was younger than you, but even the carrying-a-revolver-on-hand thing didn't change that he had a notably guarded energy around him.

"We'll play against him," Shorter continues, "Sing why don't you pair up with Ash?"

Shorter seems dead set on this, you can tell that he wasn't going to leave much room for you to opt out of it, so you down the rest of your screwdriver and place the glass down onto the table. His grin of approval only makes the decision to go along with him better - it feels as though it's his very nature to make people (or maybe just you) want to please him, like his happiness is a reward you can't turn down.

"You're setting her up for failure," Ash stops next to the pool table, a sly grin on his face as he addresses Shorter, "put her on my team if you want her to win." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all are cool for my method for writing out text messages I personally enjoy it but worry it's weird  
> Thanks for everyone joining me on this Shorter adventure  
> I tent to switch between writing this and writing for personal stuff with him and an OC and i'm so glad to have the support of what i feel is a pretty niche fic.  
> Your comments are all super motivating  
> I hope you like this update, i'm not super confident with the result because of the place I'm ending at but I didn't want to drag this chapter on for too long..
> 
> Also
> 
> I wanted to take the time to say I'm probably gonna make this a notably canon divergent to include people and events that are known to happen in the show and mix them around, so I hope that's a decision most of the people sticking around will like. (I'd like to assume it's best to write episode 9 as not real anyway)


	5. Take a Seat

On a surprisingly good note, out of three games you and Shorter managed to win one of them, a lot more than expected given the two of you were most definitely outmatched by Ash and Sing.

In the time since you’d started, the bar filled up more than before, making for a rowdy environment although not as populated as what you're used to for bars on a late Saturday. Each time people would come by during your games to talk to Ash or Shorter you picked up on the fact that most people seemed to refer to the latter as Boss.

You could only wonder why they called him that, you wanted to assume a just some sort of nickname deal but part of you could tell it was more than that, but you couldn’t put your finger on why thinking too much about the answer made you uncomfortable. Another thing, however, that struck your curiosity was the fact that despite the fact that you were in a seedy den of almost exclusively men drinking, you hadn't dealt with any uncomfortable situations even if you briefly broke off from the group of people you'd been mostly spending the night with. Although you had no complaints, it was hard not to notice given the average party experience for a girl your age.

Already a couple drinks in since you arrived, with Shorter a few in as well, you decide not to dwell on things that feel slightly off.

Navigating your way through groups of people, you head back towards the table with two drinks in hand. Upon your return, things are mostly the same way as before - with Ash, Sing and Shorter playing cards. You’d sat out this round to get a couple drinks for yourself and Shorter, but that decision put you in the awkward position now that someone had taken your previously empty seat and joined in on playing cards.

Placing one of the drinks - the one you fetched for Shorter - on the table beside him, you stand in place and start turning your head to scout around to see if you can find an unoccupied chair that can be dragged over to the table.

You feel the force of physical contact on your waist while not paying attention, your gaze immediately snapping back to the source. At first, you tense up and feel a sharp anxiety in your chest over having someone’s hands on you, but when you see the arm that suddenly slid around your waist is Shorter’s.

He pulls you to his side and forces you downward, until you land directly on his lap. You let out a small squeak, and your glass in hand shakes enough that some of it spills over the rim, leaking onto your fingers.

As he plants you firmly in place, Shorter places his chin on your shoulder to get a more clear view of the cards in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge what he’d done, but instead just continues to play like this.

The close proximity makes it impossible to ignore the feeling of his muscular chest against your back. It immediately reminds you of the risque selfie he’d sent you earlier that day that you hadn’t even deleted from your phone.

“Shorter,” you pause for a second, as if to hesitate on whether or not you want to say something, “I can go get a chair somewhere.”

“That seems like a downgrade,” he responds, his breath tickling warmly against your neck. His voice is low, a stark and somewhat serious difference from his usually easy-going tone.

It feels like you’re the only one who isn’t completely indifferent to the situation, nobody at the table gives you any looks, Shorter occasionally puts down a card from his hand, but everything remains  normal except your heart is pounding in your chest and you keep forgetting to breathe because he’s so close and you can feel all of him every time he so much as moves and that _stupid_ picture he sent is all you can think of because of course how good he looked in it would be on your mind at a time like this.

Despite everything, you can admit it's not... _bad._ Although in hindsight it's unsurprising Shorter could be a flirty drinker.

"Are you having a good time by the way?" He asks, nonchalantly resting his free hand against your thigh while waiting for his turn to come around, "we can escape and just chill out if this isn't your scene."

It isn't your scene, that's something you were certain of, but you find yourself enjoying it. Even Ash who original felt uncomfortably guarded became more comfortable and casual as time went on.

Before you can tell him you're having a good time - intending to thank him for inviting you out - a loud crack of what sounds like successive gunshots rings out from the entrance of the bar.

Ash and Shorter respond swiftly, both standing up immediately. As Shorter does, you lose your balance from the surprise and plummet to the ground, landing on your ass onto it. Your stomach drops, and more gunshots can be heard.

You can see Shorter shouting while moving for cover behind a pillar, but the commotion and shock prevents you from hearing what's being said. 

Everything happens so fast from the moment the first shots rang out that you stay frozen on the floor for what feels like minutes but could have only been seconds when you feel your arm being pulled at. Looking up you see Sing, clearly angry. It snaps you out of it and you rise from the ground with his help, not fully lifting your body but instead remaining bent over while Sing led you away by the wrist.

You glance back to see if Shorter is following, but can't seem to find him in the brief moment you have looking back before you're yanked into a separate room from the main bar area and the door is slammed behind you.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another update... I wanted to... get to some spicy stuff and a bit more... development... a lil bit... before i got to... some excitement


	6. Truth

Immediately after Sing lets go of your wrist, you collapse to the floor under your own weight. Your eyes burn with a threatening onset of fearful tears. The room Sing pulled you into is dimly lit, appearing to be some sort of backroom office but you really don’t pay much attention to the details.

“I… have to call 911,” you manage to croak out, desperately patting at your body for your cellphone as you flinch at the sound of a few more gunshots.

When you find it, you realize there’s blood on the inside of your dominant hand, some of it half-dried surrounding an open cut and on your palm you spot a visible shard of glass still embedded in your skin. You don’t remember anything like that happening but suppose during the chaos of falling to the ground out in the bar area that a glass could have fallen and shattered before your own fall.

Before you can unlock your phone, Sing swipes it out of your hands.

“You can’t call the cops,” he snaps, shoving your phone into his back pocket.

“Why the fuck not?!” You shout back, trying to lunge your upper body forward to snag your phone back from Sing’s pocket.

His hand grabs your wrist tightly to stop you from doing so, before he lowers himself to a knee in front of you.

Sing doesn’t seem to be too bothered by the situation in particular. He’s clearly frustrated or concerned but not “there were gunshots and we’re hunkered down in a private room” concerned.

“Tell me what’s going on Sing.” You demand, trying to pull your wrist from his surprisingly strong grip. He forcibly turns your hand so that your palm is facing up, exposing your injury.

“It’s not a big deal,” he starts, examining the injury on your palm carefully while avoiding touching the shard of glass, “I haven’t heard any more shots the last couple minutes so it’s probably already dealt with.”

“ _Dealt_ with?” Your jaw drops open in astonishment. Dealt with seems to imply more that there was a generic bar fight not a shooting.

“Shorter is a good boss when he gets serious, and Ash is here too anyway so whoever’s involved they picked a bad night.”

Sing finally releases your hand and stands up, turning around to root around the office desk until he procures a tiny white box with a red cross. He didn’t say much to help you get an understanding of the situation, but he’s right that there hadn’t been any more shots for awhile.

What gnaws at you is all the little things throughout the night that ultimately lead you to one conclusion that you weren’t sure exactly how to ask about.

“Sing,” you breathe out his name shakily, “is this stuff normal for you?”

Sing turns to you in surprise at first, before his expression twists into a grimace.

“Did Shorter not tell you _anything_ about himself?” He asks, voice raised just shy of a yell.

As if on cue, a rhythmic knock raps against the door behind you, startling you enough that you scurry further away from it.

Sing reaches over and unlocks the door, opening it a crack and peeking out before moving to allow Shorter to slip into the small little office room. His expression is serious, almost cold in contrast to his usually demeanor.

You must have had an expression matching how you felt; when Shorter looks at you his expression shifts, his frown pronounced as his shoulders drop with his sigh. He looks remorseful, and added in with the confusion of all of your emotions it makes you want to try when he looks as you like that.

“Go help them out Sing,” he instructs the young teen, stepping away from the door to allow Sing the room needed in the office's small space to pass.

Sing nods, slinking past Shorter but stopping before exiting completely to hand him the small first aid kit .

"She's injured," he states flatly, before leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

"It's safe out there now." Shorter speaks gently, crouching in front of you first aid kit in hand. Your eyes gravitate towards the sleeve of his sweater yellow where you see blood near his wrist. Your first instinct has already decided where that blood is from, but there's a part of you that doesn't want to be right and you try and tell yourself he was injured as well. Shorter notices your gaze, and speaks up. "It's really hard to find a good time to tell someone you're a gang boss."

You expected the truth that had been hanging over your head to hurt, and make things worse. But somehow it feels like a weight lifting off your chest.

Shorter gestures for you to give him your hand, and you oblige.

"I think I'd recommend before asking them to hang around in a den where criminals gather," the words don't come out angrily or harshly, just tired.

His calloused thumb smooth over your palm gently, stopping just shy of where the shard of glass is buried into your skin. 

"You're probably right." Placing the tiny first aid box on the floor, Shorter opens it and removes a roll of gauze, antibiotic ointment and medical tape; leaving everything at the ready on top of the box while his attention returns to your palm. "If I'm not the kind of person you want to be involved with I'd understand."

Shorter pulls out the glass from your palm - causing you to sharply inhale from the pain - before dropping it to swiftly snatching gauze and ripping a patch of it to hold and press against the fresh wound left behind by the glass. He holds it there for some time, keeping pressure on so that the bleeding stops.

"It's kind of hard to want to stick around after tonight." You avoid his gaze while saying it, feeling ashamed somehow to basically admit you're afraid and unsure about something like this despite being aware that it's perfectly normal considering. "Did you kill someone tonight?"

You can tell from the periphery of your vision that Shorter doesn't look up to you, instead focusing his attention entirely on patching up your injury. He doesn't answer for seconds, but it feels like painfully long. When he does, 

"Yeah."

As Shorter begins to apply ointment to your injury, the two of you sit in silence. The minutes go by and eventually he's doing the finishing touches of wrapping gauze around you hand; taping it up and finishing the injury dressing. You wonder if this is something he's had to do to himself or others often - and the answer is probably; and even though he's finished with yours, he doesn't release your hand, instead holding onto it gently.

"I..." you swallow nervously, finally turning your head to look at him, "you did break your promise that you wouldn't leave my line of sight."

Somehow you're surprised by your own words. It isn't what you expected to say but the words just came out. You realize there's still a lot of fear and anxiety swarming your thoughts. You feel like the moment you leave the room you're leaving a place of safety. Even if you wanted to go home, you'd have to leave this tiny space to get there.

Shorter looks up and your eyes make contact.

"I mean I think this was a pretty reasonable promise breach scenario," he grins, his infectious smile catches you and you mirror it with a tired smile.

"I don't want to be alone right now." As you admit your fear, you realize how much you'd been holding back on just how much distress the situation left you in, speaking about it opens a new floodgates of emotion and you hardly feel any warning signs before your face is wet with tears.

Shorter leans into the palm of your hand, pulling it closer the rest of the way to press his lips against your bandaging.

"Then we'll leave together."

 

* * *

 

As much as you wanted to leave the bar, the process was... discomforting to say the least. Shorter didn't want you to see anything upsetting - and neither did you - so he covered your eyes and guided you out of the bar, leaving Sing to deal with the rest of the situation. 

Shorter decided he felt it to be safest if the two of you returned to his apartment, which thankfully wasn't far from the gang's main hangout. 

By the time you enter the apartment, you're exhausted. The 'excitement' of the night - if it could be called that - left you drained and it shows.

"Let's get you to sleep, you need it." Shorter sounds just as tired when he speaks.

You're guided into Shorter's room, too tired to take in the surroundings other than the mess of dirty laundry over the floor. He clears more of the dirty clothes sitting atop the bed by shoving them onto the floor, and prods you into getting to bed. You hesitate, but oblige and crawl into the bed, grabbing the first blanket you see to wrap over your body.

"Gimme a second," he says, stepping back and reaching back over his shoulder.

He pulls his sweater up and off, tossing the bloody clothing to the floor. You aren't sure if he had a shirt on underneath that he took off along with the hoodie, but it's irrelevant. He no longer has anything covering his upper body. You think he might find a new shirt to put on, but he doesn't. Instead, he just climbs into the bed beside you. When you had said you didn't want to be alone earlier, you really meant it; and thankfully Shorter seems to understand some of the unspoken specifics of that by staying in the same room with you.

"I hope you're going to hold off on stuff like what you did at the bar," you rasp playfully, laying on your side facing Shorter.

He grins and shrugs as he rolls onto his back, placing both hands on the backside of his head to rest on them.

"I'll try my best."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another update.  
> I can't promise I'll be updating every single day like this, but for now as long as I'm on a roll i might as well enjoy it.  
> I decided to add... some... soft... for the end of the chapter :3c


	7. A Library

You weren’t over it.

The internal conflict teetered on the verge of driving you crazy.

It had been four days since you last saw or spoke to Shorter.

After getting up in the morning and feeling significantly more calmed down and safe enough to get home, you left Shorter’s apartment for home and the first think you’d done was take an extremely long shower, replaying the events and information from the night before.

Although you weren’t _angry_ with Shorter, you weren’t sure if he was someone you wanted to maintain a connection like that with; especially if all it took was one night out around him to be in danger.

The last you heard from him was the morning you left. He messaged you to ask if you made it home safe and you answered. Since then, it seemed neither of you were ready to take it upon yourselves to contact the other. Of course, you considered sending a text or something many times since, but couldn’t manage to bring yourself to do it.

Regardless of what kind of person he was, something like _murder_ and whatever other sort of gang activities he was involved with were nothing to just get over and accept just like that. You knew Shorter was probably giving you space by not contacting you, and part of you understood that was likely for the best. But it still hurt.

Trying to get your mind of of things, you kept occupied all week. But it didn’t help too much.

Groaning in exasperation, you rest your head on the table as best as it can fit by the computer in front of you in an over-expressive form of defeat.

You thought going to the library to get some work done was a good mundane change of scenery. Apparently it would take more than a beautiful building in midtown New York to clear your head.

After a few minutes of remaining in place, you lift your head and pull yourself back up properly in your chair. Begrudgingly, you try and get back to getting some sort of work done.

“Hey.”

The word registers in your head, you certainly hear someone speaking but the idea that there’s someone in the library trying to talk to _you_ doesn’t register.

Not until the person behind the voice sits down in front of you.

Wondering if this was just a stranger being creepy or forward you specifically try and avoid looking in their direction to avoid looking like you were giving an opening to talk, but from the periphery of your vision you catch sight of him anyway.

“Ash?” you murmur, looking up from the computer to face him directly.

He looks somewhat different from the night you met him, less tense and unapproachable than that night. Maybe it’s the glasses - which he wasn’t wearing that night.

“You seem to be doing… mostly good,” he comments, placing his forearms on the table in front of himself.

“Have… you been around for long?” You ask, chuckling awkwardly.

“I saw whatever that was if that’s what you mean,” he answers, readjusting his position by leaning back. The subtle grin on his face pretty much confirms for you that he definitely was here for that. The expression only lasts for a short amount of time, however, before Ash becomes more serious.

“It’s like a stroke of luck you’re here, actually,” he signs, placing a hand against his head and running his fingers through his blonde strands, “you should know that what happened on the weekend was my fault.”

“Your fault?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. Anxiety fills your chest at the memory, and you shudder. It’d probably take a long time before you can feel at ease about the whole thing.

Ash nods.

“They were there because I was,” he explains, “normally Shorter doesn’t get into much trouble, there isn’t much issue involving turf when it comes to Chinatown.”

You slink back into your chair, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So why are you telling me this?” You ask earnestly.

“Shorter talks… a lot,” he answers, his expression shifting again from serious to amused, “it didn’t take much to connect the dots.”

“That's… hmmm,” you look down to the floor sheepishly, your imagination trying to piece together what kind of things Shorter could be saying that gave Ash enough information he could confidently talk to you about the situation. The idea of asking Ash to elaborate strikes you, but for some reason you feel like he isn’t just going to open up on that information.

It’s hard to make sense of exactly why Ash is telling you this. Is it just that he feels responsible for you being put in danger? Or does this have more to do with Shorter than it has to do with you? Sing did say at one point at the bar that Ash and Shorter had been best friends for a couple years now.

Before you can think of anything to really say to Ash, he speaks up.

“Anyway, I'm supposed to be somewhere, I’ll leave you to it.”

Your gaze snaps back up as Ash rises from the chair to leave. He doesn't seem to be in much of a mood for socialization. 

“Do you think I should message him?”

As soon as you ask the question you question why you even did in the first place. You don’t know Ash well and the fact that he would somehow have the answer you’re looking for seems silly.

Ash shrugs before passively waving a hand.

“I don’t see why not.”

 

* * *

 

Considering how much time you spent mulling over everything and in a constant state of frustration as a result, it was much easier to message Shorter than you thought. In hindsight it seemed you'd worked yourself up too much over the situation. Although it took him half an hour of your anxiety to get back to you, it felt like nothing had happened; Shorter messaging you back like nothing was out of the norm. 

After you told him you'd seen Ash at the library, he offered to pick you up to take you home. It was hard to think of him as a particularly eager person when you were elated at the offer. 

For some reason it never occurred to you that Shorter drove. And for some other reason, you were surprised when he pulled up outside on a motorbike.

"I hope Ash was nice," Shorter says as he pulls off his helmet to greet you with a smile.  
  
You murmur a barely audible 'yeah', rocking gently on your heels and shifting your weight. It takes only a moment that feels much longer to muster up the will to act, and you close the distance between the two of you.

Your arms sliding beneath Shorter's, you pull your body into his and hug around his torso tightly. The positioning is awkward since you didn't bother to wait for Shorter to get  _off_ the motorbike before hugging him, but bending over somewhat you make it work.

"I should have messaged you sooner," you speak muffled into his chest, "it was kind of shitty..."

Holding his helmet under one arm, Shorter uses his free arm to wrap around your shoulders, hand gently patting your back. 

"You can just say you can't get enough of me." Despite his cocky, playful words, he speaks softly and reassuring. "Why don't we get you home first, though?"

You nod and pull back from him. Shorter sets his helmet down for a moment and twists back, pulling a secondary helmet from the cargo on the bike. He hands it to you with an encouraging gesture; and you take it and put it on. Your nose scrunches at the musty smell of the helmet, almost regretting your decision.

Hastily, you hop onto the back of the bike.

Shorter puts his own helmet back on and adjusts it accordingly. He leans forward, and you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his torso firmly. You shift, getting yourself as comfortable and steady as possible, even if comfort didn't feel like much of an option - especially for your legs and feet, the whole thing felt awkward like there was no good way to sit.

The bike rumbles to life below you as Shorter starts it. He doesn't give you any preparation or warning, at first the bike lurches forward and you make a sound of surprise, and then he immediately takes off.

 

* * *

 

Immediately after the bike stops in your apartment parking space, you take off your helmet; waiting for Shorter to follow suit before saying anything.

"Can you explain exactly how we went that whole trip without being pulled over and  _arrested_?" You ask within moments of Shorter's own helmet removal, "do you always drive this fast or were you showing off?"

"Both?" He answers, hooking his helmet onto the visor of his bike.

Slowly getting up from off the motorbike, Shorter pulls out its kickstand and leans it against the stand. You follow suit in getting off the bike, holding the helmet in your hands awkwardly unsure of what to do with it.

Shorter plucks it from your hands and returns it to the cargo net.

As he lifts a hand to rustle his mohawk back to having some volume after being helmet flattened, he smiles and chuckles awkwardly, leaning against his bike.

"Do you want me to take you to your door?"

His question strikes you off guard. Although Shorter had always been relatively polite and kind, he'd been  _extremely_ forward in everything enough that accompanying you to your door seems tame, especially to ask for it. You grin.

"You can come hang out for a bit if you want?" You offer, slowly making your way onto the apartment walkway and to the door, looking back until Shorter follows along.

"I guess I haven't been to your house yet..." he murmurs thoughtfully, before his expression shifts to a wicked grin, "you're about to make a pretty big commitment having a criminal like me in your home."

As both of you approach the main doorway, Shorter opens the first door for you, and you take the keys out of your pocket to unlock the second, holding it until he follows you.

He's joking about what he said, and you know that, but the words were definitely the truth. Chances are there's some trouble you just won't be able to escape by continuing to be around Shorter, especially to get increasingly closer. The two of you walk in silence down the hall until you stop at your door. Unlocking and opening the door, you gesture for Shorter to enter. He stops in the doorway to remove his shoes and you follow close behind, allowing the door to close and click behind you.

"Well you're welcome criminal or not," you say with a shrug, "as long as you don't take anything."

You make a joking hand gesture that you'd have your eyes on him, trying to keep a serious face but the smile makes its way through.

"I don't think I can follow that rule actually," Shorter doesn't leave the doorway further into the apartment, instead he remains in place but turns his body completely so that it's facing you.

The small entryway leaves you trapped in by his large frame. Everything happens in an instant; Shorter only a few inches away and you can feel your chest jump as he cuts the rest of that distance away entirely. His body pins you back to the door behind you; a knee nudging your legs apart to rest between them. He places a forearm on the door next to your head, his other hand resting open palmed against it, before angling himself down to reach your height. He's so close that it feels like you couldn't even fit a strand of hair between your faces; and then suddenly his lips are on yours. 

Shorter doesn't leave you with any room, like his whole being is devouring you. He coaxes your mouth open and pokes his tongue out against your lips, running the smooth metal piercing in the center along them.

When he breaks away from you, keeping his face still only a few centimeters away, you can't tell if the kiss felt like an eternity or an instant. You realize you hadn't even taken a single breath the whole time and exhale deeply, trying to catch yourself.

He looks at you with an intensity you can feel in your core. This isn't the first time you've felt what it was like when Shorter was serious as opposed to goofing around - but this was something else.

Shorter Wong was without a doubt a friendly and kind person - but in this moment you felt like he could eat you alive.

And you wanted him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured... there needed to be a bit more... inner turmoil rather than quick easy acceptance of the situation :3c  
> But only a bit more...
> 
> Hey look I updated... two days after last chapter instead of one...  
> I hope you guys like this one, I'm still torn on how far I want it to go next chapter.  
> So who knows, is there a cockblock in store or nah?  
> Find out next episode
> 
> Also  
> I hope y'all r enjoying urselves I'm still trying to work out... /exactly/ how i want to write shorter...
> 
> Also hurrah this fic has passed the 10k words milestone... :3c


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just letting y'all know that this chapter is explicit sexual content. I'm writing it so that it's completely separated from things that happen/will happen so that if you really don't want to read explicit content you don't have to.

Although Shorter keeps most of your body squished between the door and his own frame, you’re fortunate enough that your hands are free. Reaching forward, you tangle your fingers in the back end of his mohawk and pull him closer so that your lips are together again.

Your desperation to feel him shows in the way that you immediately seek out his tongue with your own, as if trying to start back up from where he left off. Shorter’s knee shifts in its place between your legs and the sensation makes you whimper into the kiss.

He drops one of his hands to your side and firmly squeezes your hips, the tip of his tongue flicking and twisting around yours with zeal.

For a short time, it feels like neither of you has any intention of moving away from the doorway, but finally Shorter withdraws slightly, his lips glistening with a small coating of saliva from your heated kiss.

“Do you have condoms?” He asks.

The bold question catches you off guard at first, you realize that’s where the two of you were probably going with this but something about his assertion emboldens you. You nod.

“I have a purse beside my couch…” you answer, although feel disappointed that in order to get there the two of you will have to move away from each other and as much as you want more from him the idea of having less even if just for a few seconds is unappealing.

As if being able to sense your disappointment - or perhaps feeling the same way - Shorter grabs your thighs and hauls your legs up around his waist, grinning when you let out a sound of helpless surprise.

He moves away from the doorway, heading into the hall and coming upon the living room easily without direction. He pauses for a second and glances around - perhaps to make sure the purse you mentioned was there, before bringing you to the couch and turning to sit on it.

Shorter keeps you in place, leaving you on top straddling him when he sits down on the couch.

You take the opportunity to reach for your purse on the side table and root through it. Not having much patience to wait you out, Shorter begins to slide his hands up your shirt, gently running them over your sides and all the way up.

Procuring the _one_ condom you managed to find in the purse - thank god - you place it on the arm of the couch and drop the purse onto the floor. The moment you’re free from it, Shorter pulls your shirt up, your arms lifting to help him take it up and off completely.

The two of you are hardly synchronized, while Shorter started to work on removing your bra, you went for Shorter’s hoodie, trying to pull it off. Eventually, when he unclips your bra you concede to him and let him take it off before unceremoniously taking off his sweater along with the t-shirt beneath it.

Neither of you are particularly concerned with anything but stripping each other down or being in any way elegant about what was happening. You didn’t want to, the tension that led to this moment had been too much for you to try and take it slow now that it’d snapped.

With the both of you completely bare and topless, however, you manage to slow it down enough to appreciate the view of his upper body - which you had thought about a lot more than you probably should have since he originally sent you that selfie.

“You can take pictures if you need something for when you’re alone,” he offers pointedly, leaning back against the couch entirely and watching you carefully with a lustful gaze. “But it’ll look better if there’s proof you were here first.”

Shorter doesn’t need to even suggest it to you - the skin of his neck and clavicle are tempting enough on their own that by the time he suggests you leave proof you’re already leaning into him.

You part your lips gently and place soft kiss as the base of Shorter’s neck, darting your tongue out against his warm skin before you latch into it with your lips. You suckle the skin gently at first, but when he reacts by arching into you and letting out a low groan, you’re spurred into sucking with vigor.

As you pull back to reveal a fresh red mark left in place of your lips, Shorter’s hand slides up your thigh all the way to your ass, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“More,” he demands.

You oblige, aiming this time to leave a mark at his collarbone.

But each time you pull away from the newest one you make, Shorter demands you keep painting his skin with bruises until he has half a dozen in varying spots on his neck, chest and collar. It’s obvious you’re giving him something he likes - and the thought that you’re doing that for him turns you on.

Although he stops demanding more, you give him one more hickey on the higher end of his neck, right on top of where you can feel his pulse. The sounds he makes, although low and deep, drive you crazy; your hips rocking back and forth to grind yourself against him.

“Let’s get these pants off of you,” he murmurs, sitting up more rigidly to grab you firmly. He lifts you just slightly, guiding your body to turn around. When you pick up on what he’s doing you move along with him until you’re seated with your back against his chest - just like he had you in his lap at the bar.

His thumbs hook into your pants and beneath your underwear and he slides them off and down your legs. You kick them off completely and let them crumple to the floor to join the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely bare on top of him.

An arm wrapped around your waist to hold you against him, his other hand moves to just below your navel, a single finger trailing down painfully slow. The sensation is intoxicating, sending chills down your spine without even touching anything _particularly_ sensitive.

Finally, as if an eternity of need passed, his finger slides between your lips, the tip immediately seeking your sensitive clit. The anticipation he’d built within you makes it feel that much better when he gets there, you whimper the moment he touches you and your hips shake and buck in an encouraging need for him to give you more.

He obliges, but only by a little, the tip of his finger running gentle slow circles around the sensitive nub. You can tell by the way he moves completely smoothly around that you’re dripping wet.

The arm around your waist moves and his hand cups one of your breasts beneath it. While he continues to only just barely offer your clit almost any stimulation, he pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger gently. You moan, leaning against him entirely for support as your body melts under his touch.

Hearing him chuckle next to your ear sends a chill through your spine that feels amazing, every nerve in your body on fire and feeling only good enough to be desperate for _more_ from him.

As his lips catch your skin beneath you, the added sensation makes you moan with need. The light stimulation he offers has you so on edge that every little thing he gives to you feels ecstatic. His hand moves to your other breast, giving your nipple there some attention.

You can feel the metal ball of his piercing against your skin as he sucks away at it - most certainly to try and bruise the skin. When he pulls away, he places a gentle kiss against the spot.

“Shorter,” you moaned, “I don’t… want to wait…”

“Oh?” he asked curiously, “don’t want to wait for what?”

“For you to fuck me,” you answer, too needy to be anything but blunt. The desire for more is so overwhelming you’re almost on the verge of tears.

"Oh you really _are_ impatient," he sounds amused, like he's mulling over his thoughts. To your disappointment, then relief, he removes the hand playing with your breasts from you and uses it to pull down his pants, which are thankfully baggy enough that it doesn't take much shifting from beneath you to be able to slide them off and onto the floor along with his underwear. He pulls your ass against his bare pelvis, grinding his fully hard cock against your backside. "Is this what you want?"

"Please?" You twist your body to face him, your lips only just grazing against his.

You can feel his lips smile against yours.

"Well if you ask like that I can't keep teasing you... but you're going to have to go a minute without."

He turns you in his lap so that you're straddling him again face-to-face, his cock resting against your slick lips. As he grabs the condom and begins to unwrap it, you can't help but grind yourself against him so that the tip of his cock rubs against your clit, the way he bites his lower lip as you do so spurring your excitement.

Tossing the empty wrapped away, Shorter grasps his cock and rolls the condom down its shaft, squeezing the air from the tip.

Shorter keeps one hand at the base of his cock, angling it to press against your entrance. His other hand rests against your inner thigh, thumb nestling between your folds and rubbing against your clit.

You lower yourself onto him, not bothering to take too much time. Although your walls stretch around it snugly enough that there's an aching throb, you're so wet that it otherwise slides in with relative ease.

Shorter groans, the hand at the base of his cock releasing to grab you around the waist and help guide you up and down. 

It's nice to be able to watch him like this; all the cool guy and teasing persona of his aside he looks to be enthusiastically enjoying you as you rock on top of him and settle yourself into a rhythm against him. He reciprocates the movement, though occasionally moving a little fit faster to spur you into matching his own speed.

Your hands seek support at his shoulders, fingertips digging in as you use the extra support to to lift yourself up and down with more.

"Look at you," he purrs, looking you up and down as if appraising you, "does my cock feel good?"

As if to spur you on, his thumb at your clit presses against it, giving it a few quick rough strokes.

"G-God yes," you manage to groan out.

Shorter rewards you with deep, sharp thrusts, making you cry out.

"You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock," he praises, bringing his pointer finger to join his thumb at your clit. He pinches it gently, tugging and rubbing between the two digits. You whimper, the feeling making you shudder and whine with need. He's pushing you quickly to your edge and you're certain he knows it. "You gonna cum for me, baby?"

He pinches your clit tightly enough to make you cry out, your cunt throbbing with need. 

His thrusts fall out of rhythm, but keep their brutal pace, focusing a bit more on stimulating your clit than timing his thrusts.

"Shorter," you manage to choke out, breath unsteady as Shorter guides you inch by inch closer to getting off, "I'm... gonna..."

"That's right... cum for me," he encourages softly, thumb pressing rough circles at your clit as he thrusts relentlessly into you.

Your eyes roll back in ecstasy, body teetering right at the edge. You can't manage to say anything but a mix of barely coherent 'Shorter' and 'god yes' with a few curse words thrown in. The way he looks at you eager to see you cum is what really pushes you over the edge and your body stiffens up as you slam full force into your orgasm.

The sound of your moans fill the apartment, accompanied by Shorter's as he picks up the speed of his thrusts to chase his own release. You can feel your inner walls clenching tightly around his cock, coaxing it out of him until he moans out your name. He twitches inside you, riding out his own release with shallow movements of his hips while you slip off into the tail end of your own.

Both of you pant in silence as your climaxes taper off. You don't move, afraid if you let go of the stability holding onto his shoulders provide that you'll slump and fall to the ground - completely drained of energy.

After you each have a chance to catch your breath, Shorter slides himself out of you and looks to you with a pleased grin.

Neither of you seem to have any energy to say anything yet, instead he simply shifts you onto the couch so that you're laying on it and gets up - likely to clean himself up and toss the condom. 

Leaning over you, he places a brief, soft kiss to your lips before finally saying something.

"That- you're amazing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There u go, I couldn't do it... i couldn't be a cocktease  
> Let me know if you liked it, esp my personal "Shorter talks a lot of dirty" characterization >:3c 
> 
> THAT BEING SAID, since I characterize Shorter as being extremely horny it's safe to say there'll be more, but most specifically  
> I wanted to see if y'all, my wonderful readers, are interested in sexting as a scenario in the future, it's something I want to do but  
> I feel like some people don't care for written sexting just because... why not just written sex...
> 
>  
> 
> Also fun fact I literally /never/ write condom sex because I'm a sucker for raw but... i think Shorter tries to be responsible usually... tries...

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a very long time since I've written anything so I'm easing slowly into it, but thanks for stopping by :3c


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